Lashes and Strokes
by Requiem-of-Forsaken-Life
Summary: Grissom gets sick. CSIHouse Crossover.
1. Chapter 1

Darren White fingered the hilt of the shiv that he had hidden underneath his mattress. _Just a few more hours_, he thought. _A few more hours and I can get the fuck out of here._

* * *

Heather Kessler, known throughout Las Vegas by her business name of "Lady Heather," sipped her tea as she sorted through the large stack of mail she had received. She could easily have had someone else do it for her, but she found it relaxing. Much of what she received was absolute garbage: junk mail and meaningless threats. But one letter caught her attention and her emerald-green eyes widened as she looked at the return address. "Annette Raines" was the sender. _Interesting_. An old friend and a former employee at the Dominion, Annette had gone east to do her work. Heather had endorsed it, though she was sorry to see such talent leave.

* * *

Catherine Willows poked her head into the open door of her boss' office. "Gil—" she started, then noticed the way he was sitting. He was leaning over his desk, his left hand over his eyes, and his right on the side of his head. She was about to turn and leave, when his voice startled her. 

"Yes, Catherine, what is it?"

"Nothing huge. Just got a note from ADA Winters, she wants a rundown on the evidence gathered in the Darren White case."

"When?"

"Well, he's set to go to trial at the end of the week, so either today or tomorrow."

"Could you tell her that I can do it tomorrow? I just don't feel up to it now."

"You sure? I could do it," her voice was tinged with concern.

"Would you?" she could hear relief in his voice.

"Sure," she paused. "You know, if you don't feel very well, you should go home. I'll cover the shift." She braced herself for the ensuing argument, but Grissom merely nodded, got up, and left the lab. Catherine shook her head and couldn't help but wonder if he really _was_ sick. She walked into his office to pick up the information on the cases that needed the crime lab's attention tonight and couldn't help but notice a strange smell, something that definitely did not belong in the office of Gil Grissom.

The smell was on her mind as she walked into the break room to hand out the assignments. She looked at the assembled team and noticed that Greg was being uncharacteristically still and quiet and Warrick and Nick were struggling not to laugh. Catherine shot a look at Sara, who merely shrugged and confusion was evident in both women. Catherine coughed softly, causing Greg to jump and give her a 'deer-in-the-headlights' look. Nick and Warrick shook their heads and turned towards her. She wondered what was going on, and resolved to get it from Warrick later. "Alright, team," her voice was calm, though concern for Grissom and curiosity about Greg were running through her mind, "Grissom is feeling under the weather tonight, so he went home. I've got the assignments. Greg, you and Sara have a db in a dumpster behind the Bellagio. Nick, you've got a B and E on Charleston, and Warrick, a home invasion on Fremont. I'm staying in to brief ADA Winters on the Darren White case."


	2. Chapter 2

Grissom was lying in bed, reaching for a bottle of Excedrin on the night table when his cel phone rang. "Grissom."

"It's Brass," the voice on the other end of the line sounded worried.

"What is it, Jim?"

"Darren White's escaped."

"Shit," Grissom swore softly. "Alright, call Catherine, it's her case. I'll meet her out at High Desert State Prison and we can process the scene." All pain was forgotten in the rush of adrenaline. "Jim, how bad is it?"

"Bad. We got two guards bleeding like stuck pigs and one dead body so far."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he hung up the phone, and then had to lean against the wall as another wave of dizziness overtook him. He momentarily felt nauseous, but it was over quickly, and he got down the stairs after locking up his townhouse and, as he drove the Tahoe out to the prison, he reviewed what he knew about the Darren White case.

_Darren White is a 28-year-old murderer. He raped and killed five women. He would kidnap them and hold them in a locale of his choosing for a few days. Over the course of the few days, they would be raped repeatedly. Then on day four, he would cut his victim's throat and dump her body out by a highway._

The more Grissom thought about it, the less he liked the situation, but he wasn't too concerned for the police or any members of his team, except for Sara. Darren White preferred brunettes, and as a serial, had to have his victims his way.

The problem with doing something for long enough that it becomes familiar is that you start to overlook certain details about the situation. Grissom had made the drive out to High Desert State Prison often enough that he could do it without really paying attention to the road and he could think about any pertinent cases as he drove. The problem was that any changes in his condition would also be ignored, thus Grissom failed to notice the double vision that he had been experiencing for the past ten minutes.

He pulled into the parking lot at High Desert State Prison, grabbed his kit, and checked his gun in. He heard Catherine's voice behind him. "Gil, wait up." He stood back and allowed Catherine to catch up with him after checking in her gun. They walked together down to cell block E. After a few minutes, Catherine decided to break the silence that had been pervading the air since she got there. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to take the evening off."

"Jim called and let me know about White's escape. Besides, I was sitting at home bored out of my mind, so I thought I'd come here and help you out. I may be the supervisor, but you're still the lead on this." At his last comment, Catherine threw him a grateful smile. They entered the cell block together, and moved into White's cell. He had no cellmate, for an unknown reason which seemed unimportant now. The room was as clean as it could be, except for a plastic bag taped to the underside of the bed which contained several documents and a worn spot on the corner of the bed nearest the wall and away from the door.

Catherine was the first to break the silence, examining the shiny, worn spot on the corner of the bed. "Looks like he made a shiv, and used it in his escape."

Grissom was silent for a long while, then he handed Catherine the documents he was looking at. "I think we have a larger problem. These point to a plan to take a trip east." Catherine looked at the document package and saw that he was right. She noticed a selection of maps of New Jersey, New York, and Pennsylvania. Also there was a name scrawled in the upper left-hand corner of the New York map: 'Carly Forlano.' There was also a few letters from a John Stevens with a Las Vegas return address. Catherine bagged the letters and took them back to the lab for handwriting analysis and processing. Grissom gave the name to Brass to run a check on, gave the maps to Archie for analysis, and then went back to his office to lie down on the couch. A few minutes later, he received a page from Catherine to meet her in the layout room. He arrived just as Archie and Brass did. Grissom listened as all the evidence was laid out before him. Brass revealed that Carly Forlano was a CEO of a cosmetics company with headquarters in New York City known as Sonyo Cosmetics, who was in the news for having had a heart transplant about six months previously. Archie revealed that the maps came from Mapquest, and were thus public domain. He couldn't offer any other information. Catherine revealed the largest single piece of information: John Stevens was in the system because of a cancelled non-gambler's work card. His former employer? Sam Braun. Grissom pinched the bridge of his nose and sent Brass and Catherine to talk to Braun while he started to put together a package to send to Detective Mac Taylor in New York.


	3. Chapter 3

Catherine rode in silence as Brass drove to the Rampart. She wasn't sure why Grissom sent her to talk to Sam, since it could seem to be compromising to the case. She shook it off and she and Brass walked into the Rampart and asked to speak to Sam Braun. They were quickly ushered into his office, where he was sitting with his back to them, speaking to someone quietly over the phone. Catherine moved closer and managed to catch the tail end of their conversation, "—ver the connections that I have. . . . Yes. . . . No, you idiot! . . . Well, shortly, now if you'll excuse me, there's a situation here I have to take care of. Good-bye." Sam hung up the phone and turned around, facing Brass and Catherine. "Catherine, Detective, I must say I was surprised to hear from my secretary that you were here. I heard about the escape of Darren White. Now, you can't possibly think I had anything to do with that, can you?" His voice was serious, but there was a twinkle in his gray eyes as he asked his question.

"Actually," Brass spoke up before Catherine could get a chance to, "we were wondering about a former employee of yours, John Stevens."

"Hmmm. Yes, I remember him. He was always too much of a friend to my son Walt and when I found out Stevens was still corresponding with Walt while he was in prison, I fired him." As he spoke, his mouth compressed into a thin line.

"Sam," Catherine's voice was soft, she knew how much Walt's betrayal had hurt him, "we found letters in White's cell that came from Stevens. Do you have any idea how they could be connected?"

Sam looked genuinely shocked, "No, not that I can think of." He paused. "Wait, perhaps there is something . . ." he trailed off and then jabbed his finger on the button to page his secretary.

"Yes, Mr. Braun?" a female voice came back over the intercom.

"Shelley, you remember that letter I received from Nevada Corrections about two months back?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did we keep it?"

"Yes we did, sir. It's in your file cabinet."

"Thank you, Shelley." Sam got up and walked over to his file cabinet and opened the top drawer, removing a thick file. He brought it back to his desk and opened it, riffling through a few of the papers until he found what he was looking for. He handed the letter to Catherine, who scanned it quickly, noting the poignant details.

"Can I keep this?" she asked.

"No, but I can have Shelley make you a copy."

"That'd be great, Sam," her face relaxed into a smile. Sam smiled back.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Catherine was seated next to Brass as he drove back to the crime lab. After a couple of minutes of uncomfortable silence, Brass asked the question that had been on his mind. 

"What's so interesting in that letter?"

"Well," Catherine responded, "Sam may have been hurt by Walt killing Tony, but Walt was still his son, so Sam asked for regular updates on his son's condition. Not exactly legal, but something the warden of High Desert State Prison might be willing to help with. According to this letter, Walt was attacked as part of a riot in the exercise yard. According to the guards' statements, Walt would have died were it not for the actions of a fellow inmate who beat back the attackers and got the attention of one of the guards. This inmate was—"

"Darren White," Brass finished for her.

"Bingo."

"So, White saves poor Walt Braun's life, and like a good Braun, Walt pays his debts. He puts White in contact with Stevens, who has the connections to get White a car when he gets out of prison. The question is, why didn't Walt escape with White?"

"I don't know, but that doesn't matter right now. We have a connection. We should go to a judge and get a warrant for Stevens' place."

"I agree. Let's go to the courthouse, and you can call Grissom and tell him what we've learned."

Catherine picked up her phone and dialed Grissom's cel, informing him of the situation. He agreed that it was important that they get to Stevens as quickly as possible. He asked her to stay on the line as he had Archie pull up DMV records of Stevens. He noted that Stevens had a registered Ford Escort with Nevada plates, license number 1Q8-9P6L. He mentioned this to Catherine, then said he was putting all this in a package to send to Detective Mac Taylor in New York, but would wait until they could verify his suspicions about the car. Once they arrived at the courthouse, Brass rushed in and came back out five minutes later with a search warrant for John Stevens house. "That was fast," Catherine commented, "you must have caught a judge in a good mood." Brass merely nodded his agreement, still a little stunned at how easy that was.

They drove to Stevens' house and knocked on the door. "Mr. Stevens! Las Vegas Police! Open up!" Brass shouted into the door. No answer, and there was no car in the driveway. Brass drew his pistol and tried the door. It was unlocked. Catherine also drew her gun and followed him in. They found John Stevens lying on the floor of his living room practically decapitated. They did a quick search of the house and found no trace of Darren White. Catherine called Grissom while Brass called for backup.

"Grissom," he answered his phone.

"We're at Stevens' house and he's dead. His car is also missing. Once I get off the phone, I'm going to have Brass put out an APB on the car.

"Alright. Catherine, once I get this package sent off to New York, I'm going to go back home and go to bed. I'm still not feeling well."

She heard the pain in his voice, along with fatigue. "Maybe you should go to the doctor."

"I'm fine, it's just a headache."

"You sound like it really hurts."

"I get migraines, Catherine, you know that."

"Of course," skepticism still evident in her voice. She hung up and then went out to her Tahoe and retrieved her kit. She began to move through the house, processing the scene. She had just found an empty gun case when her phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Nick. She answered the phone, "Hello Nick."

"Catherine!" panic was evident in his voice.

"What is it, Nick?" her voice edged in concern.

"Grissom just collapsed here at the lab. He was talking with Archie on his way out the door when he just put a hand to his head and fell over. He cracked his skull pretty hard on the floor, too."

"Where is he?"

"Warrick called an ambulance and he's being rushed to Desert Palms Hospital, Warrick rode with him. I called you and informed Sara, Greg and Ecklie. I'm on my way over there now."

"Alright, Nick. Thanks." She hung up her phone again, and went downstairs to talk to Brass.

"What is it, Cath?"

Tears sprang into her eyes as she picked up on the shortening of her name that Gil used. "Jim, Gil collapsed at the lab, they're taking him to Desert Palms Hospital."

Brass jerked back as if slapped, then sprang into action. He shouted to the officers there to seal the scene and then took off with Catherine in tow, flashing his siren.


	4. Chapter 4

Lady Heather was walking through the Dominion, checking on each of the rooms. Ever since one of her employees was killed on the premises, she was much more aware of what was going on within her business. She just passed the schoolroom setting, where one of her more talented dominatrices was involved in the humiliation of a man she knew to be an EMT. All of a sudden, there was an irritating beeping noise from the corner of the room, where the man's belt was. He immediately told his dominatrix to stop and walked over to his belt. He picked up his pager and looked at the message. He turned to the woman and apologized profusely for having to cut this short, but he needed to take this call. She merely nodded her acquiescence and he left, stopping at the front desk to make an appointment for the next week. He hadn't had time to put his pager on, so he just set it on the desk. Lady Heather picked it up and looked at it, noting the message read: 'EmergRnCrimLabStat.' She jerked her hand back as if burned. She told herself that there were so many other employees at the lab, that it was a very small chance that it could be him. But despite this logical expression, she still felt concerned.

Once the EMT had left, she told her desk clerk that she was leaving for a bit and to have Devon put in charge for the rest of the evening. She walked calmly out to the parking lot and got in her car, driving to the Crime Lab. She attempted to look unconcerned and she mostly succeeded, at least to herself. She walked up to the receptionist's desk and spoke in her authoritative tone, "I'm here to see Gil Grissom."

"I'm sorry, he's not here at the moment," the little woman at the front desk said, "he was taken to Desert Palms Hospital just a few minutes ago." Heather walked back out the door without even thanking the other woman. She got into her car and allowed herself a moment with no witnesses to break down and cry. She then composed herself and drove to Desert Palms Hospital, looking for a member of the crime lab. She found Captain Brass pacing back and forth in a hallway. He looked up when he saw her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her, his voice tinged with suspicion. She met his suspicious, yet anxious, gaze with her own calm one.

"I heard about what happened, one of the EMTs was at the Dominion when the call came in."

"So, why are you here?"

"You don't know? Really, Captain Brass, I would have thought your detective skills would be better than that." She allowed just a hint of pain to enter her voice. Brass' eyes widened as he understood her implications.

"Oh," was all he said.

"How is he, Captain?" her voice went back to the calm, controlled, no-nonsense voice she used at the Dominion.

"He's comatose. We were just comparing notes. Catherine and Nick know a lot more about this than I do. The problem is that the doctors here are idiots!" his voice rose a few decibels before he could calm himself down.

"Relax, Captain, he hasn't been here for all that long. I'd wait before making that kind of snap—" she was cut off as an alarm sounded throughout the wing.

They looked at each other, eyes widening when they heard cries of "Code Blue! Get the paddles!" from just down the hall. She looked over his shoulder while he turned around to see a female nurse escort Greg, Nick, Catherine, and Warrick out of the room, while two male nurses were required to drag Sara out of the room. Heather arched an eyebrow when she saw Warrick touch Catherine's arm with concern etched on his face. Nick and Greg seemed to be more concerned with Gil's—had she ever called him that?--status than with what was going on in the hallway outside. Catherine, however, noticed Heather immediately. She just locked eyes with the other woman, emerald-green meeting sky-blue. No words were spoken, none needed to be said. Sara, on the other hand, felt otherwise.

The slender brunette pulled free of the nurses and marched over to Heather. "What are you doing here?" voice laced with accusation. Heather looked her up and down and didn't bother to answer, reading the emotions behind the question. Sara, however, took that as a slight. She stepped closer to the other woman. "I said, what the fuck are you doing here?" as she spoke, Sara reached out to grab Heather's arm. Just as Sara's slender fingers closed around the other woman's elbow, Heather reacted, her other hand lashing out like a viper, latching on to Sara's wrist like a vise and applying pressure with the tip of her thumb. Sara cried out, her other hand moving to attempt to pull Heather off. Heather's bearing changed. She became the persona that she put on for the public at her job. She reached out with her free hand and slapped Sara across the face. As everyone else looked on in shock and amazement, Heather turned into Lady Heather. Then, with a hard voice filled with the air of command and tinged with contempt, Lady Heather spoke for the first time since a Code Blue was called, "I didn't give you permission to touch me, bitch." Her voice softened, "I understand you're feeling grief right now, and that you are attempting to cope with the only way you know." Then it hardened again, "That's pathetic. You have no inner strength, do you? Your emotions are out there for anyone with the wit to see them. I can see it in your face right now. You're in love with him. However, you will not be the one to have him. Did you know that he was losing his hearing a few years ago? I'm guessing he did not tell you. But I knew. When you were seeing Hank, did he look at you with anger and jealousy in his eyes? That's how he looked at me when I gave him the DNA sample for the worthless piece of shit who killed my daughter. And, since I know that his people skills aren't the best, and that he relies too much on what he observes, has he ever made a trip to apologize to you for some remark or action that hurt you deeply? He did for me." Her voice was not raised, it was pitched calmly. However, after every remark, Sara flinched as though she had been slapped again. Sara's mouth moved, but no sound came out. Lady Heather, ever perceptive, read the other woman's lips, and discovered repetition of the word 'no.' Lady Heather released Sara, who promptly dropped to the floor. Again, Lady Heather's bearing changed, becoming just Heather. She reached into her purse and pulled out a slip of paper. She handed the paper to Catherine with a smile. "I'm sorry I caused a scene here in the hospital, Catherine. I just wanted to see how he was. This is my private line. I would appreciate it if you would call me with daily updates on his condition."

Catherine smiled broadly, "Of course, Heather." Heather didn't say anything, just smiled back, turned, and left. As the men all watched her go with amusement and amazement etched on their faces, Sara worked her way up off the floor and walked briskly into the women's restroom, sat down on a toilet, and cried.

Heather walked out of the hospital to her car, allowing a small smile to grace her features. It had been a while since she had personally dominated someone else and she had forgotten how much fun it was. She shook her head at how easy it was to read and break Sara. In fact, unless she missed her guess by a mile, Sara would soon be coming by the Dominion to taste being dominated again. However, her smile faded when she entered her car, and she again allowed herself to cry a little. She composed herself once again and returned to the Dominion.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days passed in a blur. Ecklie appointed Catherine the acting head of the crime lab while Grissom was in the hospital. Every day, one of them managed to go see Grissom and give Catherine an update so she could tell Heather. Heather, for her part, looked forward to this information, but she didn't know what she'd do with it yet. However, she was pleased to note that she had guessed right when it came to Sara. Two days after the hospital, Sara arrived at the Dominion and quickly got used to being submissive. A couple days later, Heather was sitting in her den, reading _The Emerald Tablet_ when she heard a knock on her door. She put down her book and stood up, "Yes?"

"It's Devon, Lady Heather. You have a phone call."

"Who is it?" Heather was puzzled, because Catherine knew to call using the private number.

"It's Annette. She's on hold, line 3."

"Thank you, Devon." Heather picked up the phone and pressed the button for line 3. "Annette! It's good to hear from you. I'm sorry that I haven't called you."

"It's not a problem, La—Heather. I've been working with private individuals, which gives me time to be a bit more casual. You have to run the whole Dominion."

"Speaking of the Dominion, you're missed around here. You were the best Dominatrix we had and while Devon is very good at what she does, you and Mona topped her in talent."

"About being the best, we were only when you didn't exert yourself. And why isn't Mona there? Did she move away as well?"

"No, she . . . died. She was suffocated."

"Did you find out who did it?"

"A man named Cameron Nelson. He was one of her after-hours clients. She switched for him, and he ended up suffocating her because he was angry at his wife."

"How did you find that out? If she was doing after-hours work, the names wouldn't be on the books."

"The police and the Crime Lab here in Vegas."

"Really? Most police officers wouldn't want to help people in the fetish business, even in Las Vegas."

"I suspect it had to do with the influence of the night-shift supervisor, a man named Gil Grissom." To anyone who didn't know her well, she would have sounded slightly grateful and very placid. To Annette, who had been trained in the ways of domination by the very woman on the other end of the line, very little was hidden.

"I take it something about that man is a sore subject." Annette's voice was more gentle than it had been in years.

"Well, he is a . . . unique individual. He doesn't judge me for what I do, just who I am. He's spent more time simply talking to me than many others except for employees. Plus, he's got the most adorable baby-blue eyes."

"Heather! Are you saying you love this man?"

"Yes, but he doesn't want anything from me that I'm not willing to give him. Because of that, I think I'm willing to give him my all."

"So why is it a sore subject?"

"He's in the hospital, comatose. He's been that way for a week and they can't figure out what's wrong with him."

"I have an idea that may help him."

"I'm listening."

"Bring him out here to Jersey."

"Why? For another doctor to take a look at him? Wouldn't it be easier to fly the doctor here to Vegas?"

"Normally yes. But the doctor I'm suggesting look at this man is Dr. Gregory House."

"_The_ Dr. House? The famous diagnostician with the bedside manner of a pissed-off wolverine?"

"That's him. He's the head of the department of diagnostic medicine at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and he's very good at what he does."

"I'll talk to his doctor and see if he can be transported across the country."

"Well, it's been nice talking to you, Heather. If you end up coming out here, give me a call, I know several submissives who could benefit from your singular talent."

"Thank you. Good-bye."

"'Bye."

Heather hung up the phone, smiling at the compliment that Annette had given her. Then she looked at the clock. She noticed that it was just after two in the afternoon. She decided to wait until 3 or so to call Catherine.


	6. Chapter 6

Sara woke up in the middle of the day, her back still in a lot of pain. She was sure that if she looked in the mirror, she would still see the lines from the cane that had fallen across her back the night before. If, three months previously, someone had told her that she'd be making regular visits to a fetish club to be humiliated and beaten and that she'd enjoy it, she'd have recommended to them that they be committed. Then came that night when Grissom collapsed. She had been so worried that he would die on her before she got to take a chance and be with him that she had overreacted when she saw Lady Heather standing in the hospital corridor talking to Brass as though she belonged there. The way that Lady Heather—she could only use the title when thinking of her now, when before she could just call the woman 'Heather'—dominated her so completely in such a short amount of time without apparent effort made her aware of her own personality and body in a way that she hadn't ever been.

She was disappointed in the dominatrix that used her, though. She asked for the best, they gave her a diminutive woman named Devon. She tried explaining that she wanted Lady Heather herself, to which Devon and the desk receptionist had laughed and said that Lady Heather only took the clients she chose.

When Grissom woke up, Sara would apologize to him for all the ways she'd been throwing herself at him ever since he brought her here from San Francisco. She'd already resolved to apologize to Catherine for the way she'd acted. In fact, she planned on doing that tonight, once she got on shift.


	7. Chapter 7

Catherine woke up at 2:45. She had 45 minutes until Lindsey came home from school. She brewed herself some coffee and wondered what she was going to do. It had been a week and Grissom still hadn't come out of his coma. The doctors didn't seem to know what was wrong with him and none of the consults that she'd heard about had seemed to find out anything new either. She got to hear a lot more than she would have had it been anyone else in the lab. Since his mother was deaf and he didn't have any other family nor a significant other, he had designated her his medical proxy so that if something like this ever happened—though he probably expected it to result from an attack by a suspect—there would be someone who could make decisions regarding his healthcare.

Catherine was in her bedroom deciding what to wear tonight when her cel rang. She picked it up and looked at the Caller ID, her mind subconsciously registering that she'd done the same action a week ago when Grissom collapsed. This time, the display said simply 'Heather.' Catherine opened the phone and put it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Catherine I have some potential news that might get Grissom healthy again."

"Let's hear it."

"A friend of mine who lives out in Princeton, New Jersey suggested consulting a doctor out there."

"No offense to your friend, but what value would this doctor have? None of the doctors here can come up with what's wrong with him."

"The doctors here aren't Dr. House."

"Wait a second. Dr. _House_? The famous diagnostician?"

"That's the one. My friend had another friend who complained of grinding of the teeth and ended up in a coma after having a couple of strokes. Dr. House realized that it was a jaw infection under the plate the patient had to repair it after it was broken. The problem is that making such a decision, not to mention the trip out there, would be a decision for Grissom's medical proxy. I don't know who that is."

"You're talking to her."

"Why you?"

"We've been friends ever since I was 22, nearly twenty years."

"Wow, I didn't know you'd known each other that long."

"And, even with all that, you still found out about his hearing loss before I did."

"I noticed the telltale signs. He wouldn't let me walk behind him or walk far away and continue to talk to him. It was an easy determination to make."

Catherine laughed, "Of course."

"The only other obstacle I can see is taking Grissom out to Princeton."

"Why would we do that? Why wouldn't we bring Dr. House here to Vegas?"

"Have you heard about Dr. House's reported bedside manner? He's like a pissed-off wolverine with the sensibilities of a brick wall. The fact that we'll be going through the trouble of bringing Grissom to him to get his expert opinion might stroke his ego enough that he'd be willing to take the case."

"Did you just say 'we,' Heather?"

"Yes, I'll be going with whoever is nominated to take Grissom to Princeton. The problem I was talking about is that he's comatose. No airline is going to agree to put him on a flight out."

"I think I can do something about that, Heather. I'll call you as soon as I know what's going on." Catherine heard the front door slam and heard her daughter yell out that she was home. "Heather, I've got to go, my daughter just came home from school."

"Of course. I'll talk to you later." With that, Heather hung up the phone. Catherine did likewise, both women sporting a relieved smile that Grissom might actually be getting some help.


	8. Chapter 8

An hour and a half later, after getting Lindsey settled, Catherine left for work, resolving to do what she could to get out of doing any work today, so she could take care of the Grissom situation. She showed up at work and was heading in past Judy, the receptionist, when the diminutive woman spoke directly to her, "Excuse me, Catherine, but Detective Mac Taylor in New York is on line one wanting to speak to a supervisor."

"I'll take it in Grissom's office." She headed down the hall and saw Warrick leaning against the wall outside the door. "What's up, War?" He looked uncertain and shifted his feet as she unlocked the office door. "Come on, spill. I've got a call from Detective Taylor in New York to take."

"Would you . . . would you like to go out for a drink with me sometime?" His voice was hesitant and pitched low.

Catherine shuddered slightly at the sound of his voice, and smiled. "You mean like a date, Warrick?" When he didn't answer, she took his silence as acknowledgement. "Sure. I'd love to." Warrick grinned at her. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I really have to take this call." Warrick walked out the door and she picked up the phone, "This is Catherine Willows from the Vegas Crime Lab."

"I thought Grissom was the supervisor for the night shift, no offense. I mean, he's the one who sent me the package about Darren White."

"None taken. I'm the acting supervisor while my superior is in the hospital."

"Sorry to hear that. But, I've got news for you. Upon receiving the package, we went to the headquarters of Sonyo Cosmetics and found White trying to get into the corporate offices. He saw a badge and took off. We chased him for ten blocks, then lost him. I managed to convince the police commissioner to let me extend this offer. Would you send a couple of members of your criminalistics team out here to New York? You could assist us in the investigation and we would turn him over to you for return to Nevada."

"Sounds good, two of my criminalists will be out there within a few days. Thank you."

"Don't mention it. I'll see whoever you're sending in a couple days." He hung up the phone. Catherine also hung up the phone and grabbed the case slips for the day. She noticed only a few, excellent. She walked into the break room to see Nick and Greg deep in conversation, Sara leaning her shoulder against the wall, and Warrick sitting at the table eating an apple. Everyone looked at her when she walked into the room.

"Nick, you and Greg have a db in the desert. Sara and Warrick, a db in the marital suite at the Rampart." As the team stood up to receive their files, she turned to Warrick, "I want to speak with you real quick before you head out." He nodded and followed her to Grissom's office.

"What do you want, Catherine?"

"Remember when we went to Miami?"

"Yeah."

"Detective Taylor is extending an invite for a couple of criminalists from the night shift to go to New York on the Darren White case. I was wondering if you'd like to go with me."

"Why us?"

"You, Grissom, and I were the ones who worked the case. Grissom's comatose, leaving the two of us who knows the ins and outs of the case. I'm going to bring it up with Ecklie later tonight. I just want you to mull over the chance."

"I'd love to." He and Catherine grinned at each other, and he left the office. Catherine waited about five minutes and then grabbed her purse and headed out. She had to go talk to two different people. First, she drove to the Rampart and headed in to see Sam. She was let in without preamble.

"Mugs, are you here about the dead body in my hotel?"

"No. That's why Warrick and Sara are here. I need to ask you a favor."

His eyes twinkled at her words. "Best not let Grissom hear you say that. He thinks my favors come with strings attached. How can I help you?"

"I remember you saying several years ago that you had a private jet, do you still have it?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I want to take Grissom to New Jersey to be seen by a doctor there, but since he's comatose, they won't let him on a standard airline."

"New Jersey? You wouldn't by any chance be taking him to see Dr. Greg House would you?"

"Does everyone in the vice business know this guy?"

"He treated a former business associate of mine. A Joey Arnello."

"The mobster who entered witness protection?"

"That's him. Sure, Catherine. You can use my jet. You know that all you have to do is ask, since you're all I have left." She turned a bright shade of pink at his comment, thanked him, and left. She drove to Desert Palms Hospital to talk to Grissom's doctor. When she got there, she walked quickly inside and made her way to Grissom's room to check on him. He looked the same as he had for the past week. Then she noticed the figure sitting in the chair next to the bed and mentally kicked herself for not noticing her first thing.

"Heather, what are you doing here?" concern and curiosity warring in her voice.

"I turned the running of the Dominion over to Devon for the next month so I could go with him to New Jersey, then I felt so out-of-sorts in my apartments within the Dominion that I felt I ought to come here."

"Hmmmm. Has his doctor been in here yet?"

"No, but I'm afraid that they'll make me leave soon. I don't know when visiting hours are over and I'm not family nor am I even his medical proxy."

Catherine looked off into the distance for a minute, then focused back on Heather. "Do you believe the implications you were making when you humiliated Sara last week?"

"That he loves me, and I love him? Of course."

"Claim to be his girlfriend. It's not like he can refute it, and it'll allow you to stay here with him if you wish."

"You think he won't mind?"

"If he finds out, and he feels the way you seem to think he does, then no, he won't mind." Heather just smiled in response as Catherine left the room to go talk to Dr. Richardson. She walked into his office and asked without preamble, "Is Gil Grissom stable enough to fly across the country to New Jersey?"

Dr. Richardson looked at her, shocked. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked slightly. "You—you want to take a comatose man with a disease that we don't know about from here to New Jersey? May I ask why?" Instead of answering immediately, Catherine looked around the office and noticed the man's diplomas. She noticed that his medical degree came from Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

"In order to answer your question, I'm going to ask you a couple of irrelevant questions and see if that helps. I see you got your degree from Princeton Plainsboro. Did you—"

Dr. Richardson cut her off, "You want to consult Dr. House on Grissom's case. You're flying Grissom to New Jersey because you've heard about House's ego and bedside manner. Most of the rumors aren't exaggerations, I worked alongside the man for a couple of years. I wish you the best of luck. I'll even formally submit a consultation request. That might help."

"Thank you, doctor," Catherine shook her head how easy that was, just as soon as she mentioned Princeton Plainsboro. She wondered about this Dr. House, how he managed to garner influence and dread simultaneously. She was looking forward to meeting him.

* * *

Dr. Cameron looked up from her computer screen, her eyes tired after four hours of working on the same patient. That's how it was here in Diagnostics. One case that was exceedingly complicated. Their acerbic boss didn't help sometimes either. Then again, he had the most adorable baby-blue eyes and sometimes she found herself getting lost in them. She was jerked out of her reverie by the whirring of the fax machine. A single sheet of paper came out of the machine and she picked it up and read it. Her eyes widened as she realized what it was. A consult request from Nevada. This was unprecedented. She sat back in her chair stunned, then jumped a little when Chase and Foreman came into the office, laughing and talking. 

Foreman's voice was slightly deeper from the laughter, "Oh, man did you see the look on that intern's face when House was called into Cuddy's office?"

"You kidding? I had an elderly man next to me nearly hyperventilate and I thought I'd have to provide aid because he'd pass out there on the floor."

Cameron spoke up, "What happened?"

"Cuddy paged House while we were in the clinic. I don't know where he was, but he wasn't on the schedule for the clinic, so that couldn't be it. Anyway, he comes into the clinic to get to her office when Brenda, the head nurse, told one of her underlings to mark this day on the calendar. House asked why, she told him because he never comes into the clinic without bribes, trouble, or threats from Cuddy. He then asked her if the rubber tourniquets and tubing were still stored in the clinic area, when she asked him why, he said . . ." what Foreman was about to say trailed off as he collapsed into chair in a fit of laughter.

Chase picked up the story where Foreman left off, "House told the nurse that he needed to fashion a makeshift cat-o'-nine-tails from rubber tubing because he left his riding crop at home and Cuddy had been a naughty girl." Chase staggered over to the wall and laughed just as hard as Foreman. Cameron rolled her eyes at her boss' antics. Then she saw him come into the conference room and say one word that had everyone paying attention.

"Ticks." Everyone looked at him incredulously.

"What do you mean, ticks?" Cameron asked.

"Our patient has Lyme Disease."

"What?" Foreman's incredulous tone made it clear he thought House was playing a trick on them. "She can't have Lyme Disease, it's January! The ticks are dead or hibernating."

"True, if she had gotten the disease in a natural setting. But she didn't. She got it in her own home, in fact the night after she slept in a bed that had been shipped here from South Carolina made of untreated wood."

"So you're saying the tick lived in her bed and then came out the night it was shipped here and _just decided_ to bite her?" Foreman was having trouble buying House's explanation.

"Sure," House explained it like he would to someone who was significantly dumber than himself—which is how he viewed the majority of the world, anyway. "The company she used keeps their items in cold storage. They claim that it keeps the wood smelling fresher when it's sent. That alone would have kept the tick within the wood. Then, it spent a couple of days on the road, again within a refrigerated truck. Thus, the first time it was exposed to warmth was in her house. It would have felt the difference and come out to investigate. And, what do you know, all of a sudden there's this nice warm buffet just within reach?"

Cameron rolled her eyes, "I wish you wouldn't call our patients names."

House eyed her, finally noticing the paper in her hands. He gestured at it with his free hand, "What's that?"

"A request for you to consult on a case."

Foreman looked shocked. "Someone wants you to consult on a case? What, you haven't terrified all the doctors on the eastern seaboard out of doing such a thing?"

House threw Foreman a disparaging look. "Who's the requesting physician?"

"Dr. Richardson."

"Useless."

"What?"

"The guy worked here for two years. He's about as much use as that wedding ring on Wilson."

Cameron looked back down at the letter, then back up to House, she focused on his nose, because to look into those eyes of his would cause her to swoon. "He writes in that this is a formality, a way of going through the proper channels. He says that the patient's proxy was going to come to you anyway. He also says that they're willing to fly out here."

Chase looked shocked. "Someone's willing to travel from wherever this Dr. Richardson is now to consult with House about a case? They must really be desperate."

Foreman's eyes widened at what Cameron had said. "Speaking of which, where _is_ Dr. Richardson practicing from?"

Cameron met Foreman's eyes briefly, then shifted back to House. "Las Vegas."

House's eyes widened perceptibly. "_The_ Las Vegas? America's playground?" Cameron simply nodded. "What's the patient's name?"

Cameron looked back down at the letter, "Gil Grissom."

House nodded, "Alright, send a response to Dr. Richardson. We'll be happy to take the case. Foreman, I want to know who this guy is, do some research. Cameron, I want you on it, too." They both nodded. "I'll be in the clinic, page me if something interesting happens, or even if it doesn't." House turned and walked out the door. Foreman looked at Cameron.

"That was way too easy."

"I think it's because the patient and his proxy are willing to travel all the way to Princeton from Las Vegas to see him." Foreman looked skeptical at Cameron's comment but said nothing.


	9. Chapter 9

The next day, Catherine received a call from Dr. Richardson informing her that Dr. House agreed to the consult and that he would be expecting them. Catherine called Ecklie and let him know that she and Warrick were heading out to New York to finish up the Darren White case. He agreed. Then she called her mother, telling her that she'd be going out of town for a few days for work. Finally, she called her father. Sam was glad to know that the consult request had gone through and told her that the jet was hers for as long as she needed it. Since the reason for transport was medical, the hospital let them use the ambulance service. Heather rode with Grissom while Nick drove Warrick and Catherine to the airport. They arrived and were rapidly seated in Sam Braun's spacious private jet, and within ten minutes, the plane was in the air. Catherine and Warrick spent most of the trip talking about the case, while Heather spent most of it reading and sitting with Grissom. The plane landed in Princeton airport several hours later, and Catherine went to rent a car for the stay here while Heather contacted Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital to get them to send an ambulance out here. Catherine came back about half an hour later with an Infinity FX and waited for the ambulance to arrive with Warrick and Heather. Once the ambulance got there, Heather got in the back with Grissom while Catherine and Warrick followed it to the hospital.

Upon arrival at the hospital, they were ushered through the ER and placed in a room on the diagnostic floor. Catherine went to the nurse's station to get the forms that she needed to fill out. She sat in Grissom's room with Heather and Warrick while she waited for the doctor to arrive.

* * *

Wilson burst into House's office to see the other man playing one-person catch with himself. "Your consult is here." Wilson's eyes were sparkling as he said it. 

"What's got you so excited? It's not like he has cancer."

"You should see who came in with him."

"Oh, damn. Is his family here? I hate touchy-feely crap."

"Let me put it this way, Greg. Until you get this guy better, this floor is going to be playing host to a minimum of two gorgeous women." Wilson's mind flashed back to when the patient entered. Two EMTs were pulling a gurney with an older man on it, and there was a tall younger man with light brown skin trailing behind the group. It was the one holding his hand and the one by his head that caught Wilson's eyes. The one holding his hand had the most vibrant green eyes that he'd ever seen, along with full lips and straight auburn hair. She was pale, which offset her features rather nicely, and she was dressed in slightly revealing black. The one at the man's head—damn!—was wearing skintight blue jeans, dress shoes, and a navy cardigan worn open over a tight white tank top. This woman had gorgeous strawberry-blonde hair and eyes that would give Cameron's a contest in brilliance.

"Ease up there, sparky," House's sarcastic tone cut through Wilson's flashback, "one of them has to be his medical proxy and until we know which one it is, you shouldn't be doing anything that might be construed as unethical."

Wilson's sarcasm was just as pronounced, "Who are you to talk about unethical?"

"You're the type who would care. Me? Not so much." House turned and noticed Foreman, Cameron, and Chase standing in the entryway to his office. "The man is here. Before I send you off to collect his medical history and give you his file to look at, tell me what you know about him."

Foreman spoke up first, "He's the night-shift supervisor for the second-highest rated crime lab in the country, after the feds, and the popular theory is that his lab would surpass the feds' if the feds didn't have unlimited funding."

Cameron spoke up, "He's well-respected in his field of study, which is entomology. He's published numerous papers and articles documenting his research. Also, a side note. Two of the three people that came with him also work at the crime lab. The blonde is named Catherine Willows, the African-American is Warrick Brown."

House looked at her incredulously. "'Brown?' He's a black man and his last name is 'brown?' That's a hoot." Foreman quirked an eyebrow at House's statement. "Chase, I want you to go talk to whichever of them has the most knowledge of what happened and also to gather the forms from his medical proxy, which is who, by the way?"

Foreman answered, "Catherine Willows."

"Cameron, I want you to draw some blood for some standard tests and Foreman, arrange an MRI. Oh, Cameron, one more thing. Here's his old file. I had it couriered from Desert Palms Hospital." The trio walked off down the hall. House waited a couple of minutes and nudged Wilson. "Let's go take a look at these gorgeous women you were talking about." Wilson just shook his head as they walked out of the office.


	10. Chapter 10

Catherine had just finished the forms when the door slid open and two young people in lab coats walked into the room. The first one in was slight. She couldn't be much over 5' in height and weighed somewhere along the lines of 110 pounds soaking wet. She was pretty, with large blue eyes, pale skin, and long brown hair. The one behind her was the stereotypical blond beach boy. Tanned, chin-length blond hair, and a sculpted physique, she could see many women falling for his good looks. She didn't think either of them was Dr. House, but she was inwardly relieved when the woman introduced herself as Dr. Cameron, while the man introduced himself as Dr. Chase. "I'm Catherine Willows, this is Warrick Brown, we're co-workers with Gil Grissom. She's Grissom's girlfriend, Heather Kessler," Catherine indicated the others in turn.

Dr. Chase spoke up, "I need to speak with you, Catherine, as well as whoever knows the most about what happened prior to his coma."

"That would also be me, Dr. Chase. Where do you want to do this?"

"There are a couple of visitor lounges here on the floor. Let's go to one of them." Catherine got up and followed him out of the room, bringing the forms with her. As she passed the nurse's station, she noticed two men hanging out where they could get a glimpse of the interior of Gil's room without it looking like they were trying to do that. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that both men's gazes turned to follow her as she followed Chase. She smiled slightly and turned her normal walk into a sexy saunter she'd learned from her days at the French Palace.

* * *

When Catherine rounded the corner, House looked over at Wilson and shook his head. The other man's eyes were so wide, he looked like he belonged in an anime. House leaned over conspiratorially and whispered, "Now, do you want me to scare the shit out of her and tell her that the guy in there has cancer so you can spend some time getting to know her?" Wilson turned to look at him, his eyes returning to normal. "What? I figured you wanted a reason to talk to her other than the fact that she's hot. By the way, where's this other gorgeous woman you were talking about?" 

Wilson threw him a disparaging look. "Probably still in the room."

"Dammit. Well, he's comatose and maybe she won't be so annoying." House looked around the wing for a second before he turned back to Wilson, "You want to come in with me?"

Wilson looked shocked, "You're actually going to visit a patient?"

"Hey, he's comatose, and at least one of the others in there is a scientist, which means less whiny and irritable than our usual bunch of friends and family. I'll just wait until Cameron leaves, otherwise she might have a coronary."

Wilson chuckled at that remark, then replied, "Oh hell, I don't want to miss the show. By the way, you do realize that you stated that he's comatose twice in as many sentences."

"Shut up. I blame it on the hot blonde."

"No argument there."

* * *

Heather and Warrick watched as Dr. Cameron drew blood from Grissom's arm. Warrick admired the view, then berated himself because he was interested in Catherine, then went back to admiring the young doctor in front of him. Heather noticed what Warrick was doing and smirked, deciding to tell this doctor, and maybe Catherine if she was feeling particularly mischievous. She also watched the young doctor in front of her, and applied her excellent prowess at reading people to the young woman. She saw pain, loneliness, and desperation. The pain was that of deep-seated emotional hurt, which she'd seen before in abuse victims and widows. The loneliness led her to believe that, if it was abuse, it was emotional abuse, but made the fact that she was a widow much more likely, though she was very young. The desperation was something she'd seen recently in Sara's eyes. It was the desperation of unrequited love. Through all this, however, she did not relinquish her hold on Gil's hand. All of a sudden, Dr. Cameron was finished, and as she turned to leave, she shuddered slightly, and Heather noticed that the sense of desperation grew stronger. She then hurried from the room.

* * *

Cameron was drawing blood from the patient's arm when she felt eyes upon her. She knew she was pretty, House often said so, so she thought the gaze was from the tall man in the corner. Then, as she stood up when the blood was collected, she noticed the woman in the chair with the patient's hand in hers was gazing at her. She noticed that although the eyes were a different color, the gaze was one she'd seen before from House's eyes. She shuddered involuntarily as she recalled his sensual gaze. She felt she had to leave, and leave quickly, so she walked fast out the door and to the lab to run the tests.

* * *

House and Wilson noticed the speed at which Cameron left the room, and wondered what the problem could be. They exchanged glances and walked into the room. The man in the corner, who was staring at the floor, looked up when he heard the door open. His gaze shifted from one man to the other as they entered the room. His voice was polite, yet slightly patronizing, "Have you entered the wrong room, gentlemen?" Wilson grinned, and House stepped forward and took in the entire room in one glance. He limped further into the room, taking in all three individuals in one quick look, then he spoke. 

"No, actually we're in the right one. By the way, what did you say to cause that nice Dr. Cameron to take off like a bat out of hell? She wasn't blushing, so I assume it wasn't some sort of sexual comment." Wilson rolled his eyes.

The man in the corner looked puzzled. "We didn't say anything to her, I don't know why she left. Who are you?"

House grinned mischievously. "I'm Dr. House and this is Dr. Wilson, a colleague of mine."

"Warrick Brown and this is Heather Kessler. The man on the bed is—" House cut him off.

"My new patient, I know. Just wanted to check in, see how things were doing, and that curiosity about Dr. Cameron, you know . . ." he trailed off, turned, and left the room.

* * *

Heather and Warrick looked up as the door slid open again, not really expecting Catherine because she had just left. Two men entered the room. One looked like the quintessential doctor with his lab coat, tie, and dress slacks. The other . . . the other one reminded Warrick of Grissom. He was scruffy, he was wearing jeans, Nike shoes, a suit jacket over a light blue button-down shirt over a black t-shirt, and carrying a cane. He also had piercing blue eyes that seemed to know everything at a glance. When he scanned the room and seemed to pick up everything so quickly, well, that was something Grissom did rather often. 

Heather had her own opinion of the two men. She saw a bit of herself in Dr. House, but she noticed that Dr. Wilson was clearly attracted to her, and then she noticed the wedding band on his finger, which caused her to narrow her eyes slightly. Then Warrick broke the silence, "Have you entered the wrong room, gentlemen?" The man in the lab coat grinned, and the man with the cane stepped forward and took in the entire room in one glance. He limped further into the room, taking in all three individuals in one quick look, then he spoke.

"No, actually we're in the right one. By the way, what did you say to cause that nice Dr. Cameron to take off like a bat out of hell? She wasn't blushing, so I assume it wasn't some sort of sexual comment." Lab coat man rolled his eyes.

Warrick sounded puzzled. "We didn't say anything to her, I don't know why she left. Who are you?"

The man with the cane grinned mischievously. "I'm Dr. House and this is Dr. Wilson, a colleague of mine." Heather's eyes widened. _This_ was Dr. House?

"Warrick Brown and this is Heather Kessler. The man on the bed is—" Dr. House cut him off.

"My new patient, I know. Just wanted to check in, see how things were doing, and that curiosity about Dr. Cameron, you know . . ." he trailed off, turned, and left the room.

* * *

Once House and Wilson left the room, House paused in the hallway just outside the door. "Well, you were right. She's definitely gorgeous. She's also the significant other of the patient. I think you'd have better luck with the blonde." 

"Where'd you get _that_ notion?" Wilson responded as they started walking back to House's office

"Oh, come on! She wouldn't let go of his hand when we walked in, and you said you saw her holding his hand when they came in. She's not wearing a wedding band, but that Catherine has an indentation on her finger from one, so she's either divorced, separated, or widowed. Also, Heather narrowed her eyes at you when she noticed _your_ wedding band. Besides," House couldn't help but grin, "she seemed to enjoy it when we were watching her."

"You think she _knew_?"

"Of course she did. Women _always_ know. Besides, the alternative is that she was walking like that because she thought Chase had a cute butt."

"Ew. I definitely don't want to think about that."


	11. Chapter 11

Once Catherine turned the corner and was sure that the two men at the nurse's station were no longer looking at her, she returned to walking normally, and followed Dr. Chase to the sitting lounge nearest to Grissom's room. They sat down on sofas across from each other and Dr. Chase started speaking to her, "Ms. Willows, I need to know, does Mr. Grissom have any allergies to medicine that we need to be aware of?"

"No."

"Any previously occurring disorders or surgery?"

"He had surgery three years ago on his ears. He was going deaf."

"Alright. Has he recently complained of any pain?"

"Just a headache."

"Anything else?"

"Nausea and fatigue."

"And nothing else?"

"No."

"Okay. Now, what happened to him?"

"Well, he'd been complaining of a headache, but he brushed it off, claiming it was a migraine. He was also nauseous and tired, and told me that he was going to take the night off. He's the night-shift supervisor. Then, there was this escape from High Desert State Prison. Darren White. Gil, Warrick, and I were the ones who caught him to begin with. White apparently overpowered a few guards and escaped. Warrick had another case, so when I put in a call for assistance at the prison, Captain Brass, the homicide detective on the scene, called Gil. He was doing pretty well, no complaints. Then he sent Brass and me to check out a few leads while he stayed in the office to do some paperwork. I received a call about another homicide and I went to that scene when I received a phone call from Nick Stokes, another member of the crime lab, that Gil had collapsed at the lab and cracked his head pretty good on the linoleum floor. He was rushed to Desert Palm Hospital where they told us he had a concussion, but they couldn't tell what caused the collapse. I don't know what other problems he had."

"What made you decide to bring him to see Dr. House?"

"It was actually Heather's suggestion. She called me with the idea. Said a friend of hers out here in Princeton recommended your department to her. Also, we received independent advice from my father. Apparently you treated one of his investors. Joey Arnello."

"Your father received investments from Joey Arnello? Who's your father?"

"Sam Braun."

"You're _Sam Braun's_ daughter? Wow. I didn't even know he had a daughter."

"You've met him?"

"Sure. My father knew him. When I was little, about six or so, my family came to the States on vacation. I don't know why, but we went to Vegas. We stayed at the Rampart Inn, and I got to see my father buddy up to a man he introduced to me as Sam Braun. I've even been back to see him on my own a couple of times. So, who was this friend of Heather's who initially recommended that you come here?"

"I don't know. You'll have to ask her."

"Thank you, Ms. Willows."

"Please," she flashed him her brightest smile, "call me Catherine."

"Alright. Catherine. That's all we need from you," Dr. Chase looked down at the forms, and noted that Catherine had put her cel phone number on the form.

Catherine nodded, and stood up. "You're welcome." She left and made her way back to Grissom's room. When she walked into the room, she noticed how both Heather and Warrick looked up expectantly, then looked a little relieved. "What?" she asked their strange expressions.

Warrick answered, "While you were off talking to Dr. Chase, we got to meet Dr. House."

"How is he?"

"He's arrogant, but he's got the Grissom look, with the blue eyes that seem to take in everything and digest it rapidly."

"That might be why he's the best in the country. Oh, Heather, as a warning, Dr. Chase will probably be in here asking you about your idea to bring Gil here."

Heather nodded, "That's fine."

Catherine smiled at her, then turned to Warrick, "I gave them my cel phone number, now, how about we go see what we can learn about White?"

Warrick smiled and looked excited. "Great, I've been bored hanging around here. Let's go." Catherine and Warrick made their way out of the hospital to the Infinity she'd rented. They drove to New York, making idle small talk, preferring to keep speculation about the case out of their minds.

* * *

Heather looked up from Gil when Dr. Chase walked into the room. She looked him over again. She noticed that he was just as much of a skirt-chaser as Dr. Wilson, but he wasn't married. He also wasn't her type, though she detected something in him. If she could only put her finger on it . . . That was it! _He'd been trained!_ flashed through her mind. He'd been worked on by a professional dominatrix. Not Annette, at least, not primarily. Heather recognized Annette's telltale signs on her submissives. She looked at him closer, and noticed his eyes were not fixed on hers. She followed his gaze and was surprised. He wasn't staring at her chest or leering in any way. He was looking at her feet. She smiled slightly. In the presence of a trained individual, she had put on her airs from her job. That was definite evidence, he recognized the aura of a dominatrix when he felt one. She broke the silence building up in the room as she forced herself to relax, "Is there something I can help you with, Dr. Chase? And please, I'm not here in any occupational capacity, so I don't need such behavior from you." At her words, his eyes rose quickly to her face and he visibly relaxed. 

"I just would like to know who recommended that you come here."

"No problem. Annette Raines." Dr. Chase nodded and left.

* * *

House and Wilson were engaged in a game of catch in House's office when Chase entered the conference room. He sat at the table and sighed loudly. Cameron looked up from the lab results that she had before her. "What is it?" 

"I believe this may be the strangest consult request ever."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, don't you find it strange that they brought the patient here on their own volition, though they made sure to include a request from Dr. Richardson? Also, you won't believe who made the initial recommendation and who confirmed it."

"Who?" House's voice cut through the air like a razorblade. "Who are you talking about?"

"Our new patient came to us because we were recommended by Annette Raines and Joey Arnello." Cameron's head jerked up at that remark.

"So, let me get this straight." House sounded amused. "Our patient, who is a supervisor at the best local crime lab in the nation gets referred to us by a mobster and a dominatrix?" Wilson heard the last part and came into the conference room with a strange look on his face.

"What?" Wilson's voice echoed Cameron's and Foreman's silent incredulity.

"Remember Joey Arnello?" Chase handled the answer.

"Yeah," Wilson smiled slightly.

"Well, apparently Joey is a good friend of Ms. Willows' father, and her father recommended that our patient come here, but he wasn't the first recommendation. The initial recommendation came from Annette Raines, a friend to Harvey Park, who we treated for jaw infection. Annette is a dominatrix. Apparently the patient's girlfriend, Ms. Kessler, knows Annette." Wilson laughed at that. Then House's pager went off.

"What is it?" Cameron was curious.

"It's Cuddy, it's not clinic, and I haven't done anything yet." House stared out the window for a second, then turned and picked up the patient's file. He scanned through it quickly, nodded once, returned the file to the table, and left without another word. Chase, Foreman, and Cameron looked at Wilson, who shrugged and left the room to go to the clinic to do his hours.

* * *

House walked into Cuddy's office without saying a word. He stood there, waiting for her to finish her phone call. Once she hung up, he started speaking, "Dr. Cuddy. So nice to see you this morning. I was wondering, though, if you could be a little more subtle regarding your desire for punishment in the middle of the day. I'm more than willing to spank you, but . . ." he trailed off, shrugging slightly. 

Cuddy's eyes sparkled as she responded, "I just called you to let you know that one of your team will not be helping you on this case. Dr. Foreman will be going to the neurology seminar in Las Vegas."

"Does he know about this?" House looked irritated.

"Not yet," Cuddy grinned slightly, House returned it.

"Can I tell him?"

"Why?" House's only response was to sigh at her as he left her office and made his way to the elevators. He rode back to his office and walked in. He noticed that the entire team was still there.

"What are you still doing here?"

Foreman handled the answer, "The results of the blood test came back while you were out, they're sitting on your desk. The MRI isn't for another fifteen minutes."

"Well, Foreman, I'm sorry to tell you, but you're no longer on the case."

"What?" Foreman's voice rose a minimum of twenty decibels.

"Relax, it's nothing you did . . . this time. Cuddy's making you go to the neurology conference in Vegas. You're leaving tomorrow."

"Oh," Foreman calmed down a bit once that information was revealed, "alright then."

"While you're there, can you do me a favor?"

"What is it?" Foreman suddenly looked wary.

"Well, we need to rule out environmental causes at the patient's residence. So, could you take around the inside of 1375 East Cactus Lane for me?"

"Is that the patient's home?"

"Yeah. Try talking to a . . . Captain Jim Brass about this. He might be able to get you in without legal problems."

"Alright. I really don't want to be arrested in Vegas."

* * *

**_Author's note: I'm sure someone else has noticed this, but I just feel the need to point out some similarities between the personnel of CSI and House (the shows, obviously). Both contain brilliant older men with poor people skills in positions of authority (House and Grissom), attractive older women with a bit of spunk (Cuddy and Catherine), attractive younger women with hero-worship complexes (Cameron and Sara), younger men from outside the area with interesting accents (Chase and Nick), each contains an African-American on the team with quite a bit of brains (Foreman and Warrick), finally, each main character has a good friend with a first name that is some derivative of James (James Wilson and Jim Brass). I don't mean to sound offensive if I do._**  



	12. Chapter 12

Heather stood up and stretched, her upper back popping as she moved for the first time since she had arrived in Gil's room. Gil was off getting an MRI, and Heather wandered off to get some coffee, she felt exhausted. She looked at her watch and noticed that it was 12:15 pm. She realized that she probably should eat something to keep up her strength. She headed down to the cafeteria and got herself a small coffee and a Rueben sandwich. She ate calmly, taking note of her surroundings. She noticed that there was a clear delineation of locations within the cafeteria. The separation didn't seem conscious, just instinctive. She noticed that the doctors sat with each other, and the staff seemed to interpose themselves between the doctors and the patients and patients' families. She stood up to leave, having finished her sandwich, when she noticed the doctors she'd met before sitting nearby. Doctors Foreman, Cameron, and Chase were sitting at the same table, talking and laughing, but she noticed that Dr. Cameron kept stealing glances over to a table in the corner near a television set. She looked over at the table, and there were Doctors Wilson and House. Heather bussed her tray, taking a look at Dr. Cameron through the shift in angles. She noticed exactly what she'd seen before. She noticed longing. She suspected the longing was for Dr. House, since Dr. Wilson was married and Dr. Cameron seemed too nice to break up a marriage like that. She looked over at the other table, and, while she couldn't get a look at the eyes of Dr. House, she noticed that he also kept stealing glances back to the table where the three young doctors were sitting.

* * *

Cameron ate lunch with Chase and Foreman, laughing and chatting with them while Chase regaled them with tales from seminary. She also kept sneaking furtive glances over at House. Chase, of course, was oblivious to her actions or if he did notice, he didn't care. Foreman, however, kept glancing at her with a strange look on his face. Cameron didn't say anything though, but she noticed a movement that seemed a little out of place out of the corner of her eye. She looked over and noticed Ms. Kessler looking at their table, then shifting her eyes to look over at House and Wilson. Cameron noticed the other woman nod almost imperceptibly at her before she turned and left the cafeteria with a small smile on her full lips. Cameron started slightly when she felt a poke on her arm. She turned and looked at Foreman, "What?" Her voice was quiet. 

"Who was that woman?" His voice was equally quiet.

"Oh, that was Ms. Kessler, she's our patient's girlfriend."

"Why was she looking at us?"

"I don't know."

"Oh. Alright," he raised his voice back to normal conversation levels. "I got something to tell you guys. Tonight, I'm leaving to go to a neurology conference. Cuddy's making me go."

Chase shifted his gaze to look at Foreman, "How long will you be gone?"

"Let's see . . . the conference starts tomorrow, and it's four days of lectures and discussions. Then, I'll probably leave the next day and come back to work the day after, so I should be gone for about six days, barring any unforeseen circumstances. Why?"

"Just wanted to know how long I'd have to be the one to bear the brunt of House's remarks." Cameron and Foreman laughed at his remark, but the laughter was cut short when all three of their pagers went off. They each looked at the message, which told them that the MRI results were in as were the lab results. Cameron, having already bussed her tray and returned to chat with Chase and Foreman (and watch House, though she wouldn't admit it to anyone, least of all House himself), left first. As she passed by the patient's room on the way to the third floor lab, she noticed that Ms. Kessler was back in the patient's room, but was now reading a book. Cameron looked at the other woman for a few seconds, trying to understand this woman, and wondering what was going on with her earlier in the cafeteria. Ms. Kessler all of a sudden looked up from her book and met Cameron's eyes, a knowing smile gracing her full lips. Cameron shook herself and resumed her trek to the lab, wondering what exactly could be going through the other woman's mind.

* * *

Heather returned to Gil's room, deciding to call Annette and then to get some reading done. She dialed Annette's number, and waited for the other woman to pick up. The phone rang six times before Annette answered, "Hello." She sounded out of breath. 

"Annette, it's Heather. Have I caught you at a bad time?"

"No, you haven't. I'm just winded." Heather smiled as she heard a muffled whimper in the background, followed by a short cracking noise and a scream.

"Ah. A client?"

"Yeah, he was cleaning my house and missed dusting the blades of my ceiling fans."

Heather chuckled softly, then turned serious. "Remember that offer you mentioned when you called last time?"

"You mean bringing in a couple of other submissives? Yes, of course I remember."

"I think tomorrow I'll take you up on that offer. I'm going stir-crazy here at the hospital with nothing to do."

"Oh, you're actually in Princeton?"

"Yes. Dr. House agreed to consult on the case, so we came out here."

"Well, how about I come by the hospital tomorrow at around 10:00. I'll find you and then you and I can go see those submissives."

"Sounds great. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye." Heather hung up the phone, reached into her bag, and pulled out a hardcover copy of Thomas Hobbes' _Leviathan_. She read a few pages before she felt someone looking at her. She looked up from her book, expecting Dr. Wilson or a nurse. Instead it was Dr. Cameron, standing outside Gil's room with a puzzled look on her face. Heather met the other woman's eyes and allowed a knowing smile to grace her features as she recalled this young doctor sneaking glances at Dr. House. This Dr. Cameron truly was smitten with the man, she couldn't hide it, and Heather was willing to bet that almost the entire hospital knew it. Heather watched the other woman turn abruptly and walk down the corridor. Heather shook her head and went back to her reading. It wasn't her concern.


End file.
